Escape From Arkham City
by Miss Singing in the Rain
Summary: In the Underworld of Gotham City, Madame Anastasia's Nightclub and Bordello has always been the one true sanctuary for female criminals and women of the night. But in Arkham City, with food, clean water, and medicine hard to come by, gang wars occurring nightly, and rapists, cannibals, and murders on every street corner, everything is at stake and everyone is at risk.
1. Cell Block Tango

**A/N: Ok, ok, I really should update "A Series of Regrettable Events," but I've hit a block with that one and my creative juices have been working with this one and I figured, "Well, what better way to celebrate Arkham Origins?" **

**Anyway, I'll have the character list up on my profile later tonight so, keep a look out. And if you watch the Cell Block Tango number from the movie musical "Chicago," this will probably make much more sense, just so you know. And please review and above all, enjoy!**

**P.S. If you are following "A Series of Regrettable Events," please forgive me. I'm trying my best. **

Cell Block Tango

Darkness. The kind that you can feel is full of life but you just can't see it. And sure enough in the silence, there's a beat. Click click. Boom. Click click. Boom. Click click. Boom. Click click. Ratatat. Boom. Click click. Ratatat. Boom. Click click. Ratatat. Boom.

"Pop!" whispered one voice.

"Six," said another.

"_Squish_," came in reply.

"Uh-uh," someone sighed

"Cicero," was murmured.

"Lipschitz," chimed one more. A drum's beat began, the sound of something rolling filled the room, and from the depths of the darkness, a single spot light illuminated a tall, thin, pale red haired woman in her forties.

"And now the six merry murderesses of Blackgate Penitentiary, in their rendition of 'The Cell Block Tango,'" she introduced, the sighs and echoes continuing behind her, before the stage went black again and she vanished from view as the voice maintained their mantras.  
"Pop!"

"Six."

"_Squish_."

"Uh-uh."

"Cicero."

"Lipschitz."

Suddenly, a row of bars was lit up and the women revealed themselves.

"Pop!" snarled a black haired woman in a revealing black suit dress.

"Six," a blonde in a tiny green skirt and jacket with a small purple top underneath hissed.

"_Squish_," seethed a red head in a leotard, bowtie, bowler hat, and tights.

"Uh-uh," breathed a blonde in a revealing white suit dress.

"Cicero," murmured a blonde in a tight violet suit, grinning at an unseen audience from behind the bars.

"Lipschitz," a blonde in a scandalously short blue dress, pinafore, and tights emphasized. The music chimed and they began to sway.

"Pop! Six! _Squish_! Uh uh! Cicero! Lipschitz! Pop! Six! _Squish_! Uh uh! Cicero! Lipschitz!" they all chanted as twisted and grinded against the metal bars. "He had it coming. He had it coming. He only had himself to blame," they all sang, stomping their heeled shoes to the beat of the music, twisting themselves through and around the bars. "If you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it…"

"I betcha you would have done the same!" the blonde in the violet suit shouted, before the women returned to their chants.  
"Pop! Six! Squish! Uh uh! Cicero! Lipschitz! Pop! Six! Squish! Uh uh! Cicero! Lipschitz!" they cried as a section of the bars opened and the black haired woman in the revealing black suit walked out into center stage.

"You know how people have these little habits that get you down?" she asked, twisting her hips seductively as she walked. "Like… Bernie. Bernie liked to chew gum, no, not chew: Po-p," she accentuated. "So I came home this one day and I am really irritated and I'm looking for a little bit of sympathy and there's Bernie lyin' on the couch drinking a beer and chewin', no, not chewin', poppin'!" she shouted, swinging herself around a nearby pole, before sliding herself against it. "So, I said to him, I said 'You pop that gum one more time'" she sighed "And he did. So I took the shotgun off the wall and I fired two warning shots." A beat as she hung upside down from the pole, her legs wrapped firmly around it as she smiled. "Into his head." She flipped herself right side up as the music began again and the girls continued singing their melody.

"He had it coming. He had it coming. He only had himself to blame," they sang as the girl in the short black suit dress slid across the stage, turning and bending over backward. "If you'd have been there, if you'd have heard it, I betcha you would've done the same!" they cried, reaching out of the bars as they rolled back and the blonde in the green skirt and jacket with the purple top walked out.

"I met Ezekiel Young from Salt Lake City about two years ago. And he told me he was single and we hit it off right away," she reminisced, swaying her hips as she walked. "So, we started living together. He'd go to work, he'd come home, I'd fix him a drink, and we'd have dinner. Then I found out, 'single' he told me? Single my ass!" she shouted, going into the splits. "Not only was he married, oh no, he had six wives. One of those Mormons, you know. So that night, when he came home I fixed him his drink as usual." A beat as she pulled a red scarf of her shirt. "You know, some guys just can't hold their arsenic," she smirked. She snapped the scarf.

"He had it coming. He had it coming. He took a flower in its prime. And then he used it and he abused it. It was a murder but not a crime," the women argued, as the red head joined in the woman in black's dance, as the door slid back and the red head in the black leotard, fishnet stockings, bow tie, and bowler hat.

"Now, I'm standing in the kitchen, carvin' up the chicken for dinner, minding my own business, and in storms my husband Wilbur in a jealous rage," she says, walking around the stage, thrusting her hips forward with each beat of the drums. "'You been screwin' the milkman' He says. He was crazy. And he kept screamin' "You been screwin' the milkman."" A beat as she froze in the middle of the stage. "Then he ran into my knife. He ran into my knife ten times," she stated, shaking her hips with the tambourine.  
"If you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it, I betcha you would have done the same!" the women froze, stopping their dancing as the blonde in the white suit dress glided onstage.

"Mit keresek én itt?" she asked, her face forlorn as she pirouetted and sashayed across stage. "Azt mondják, a híres bérlő kényszerült a férjem le, és vágja a fejét. De ez nem igaz, én ártatlan vagyok. Nem tudom, miért mondja Uncle Sam csináltam. Próbáltam elmagyarázni, hogy a rendőrség, de ők nem értették meg..."  
"Yeah, but did you do it?" asked an unseen voice.

"Uh, uh, not guilty," the woman sobbed. The music shifted as she held up a white handkerchief.

"He had it comin'. He had it comin'," the girls sang softly as the blonde woman in the violet suit made her way out into the spotlight.

"My sister, Veronica and I had this double act and my husband, Charlie traveled around with us," she stated. "Now for the last number in our act we did these 20 acrobatic tricks in a row. One, two, three, four, five, splits, spread eagles, back flips, flip flops, one right after the other," she described, turning, twisting, bending alluringly as she did so, the other girls doing similar actions behind her. "So this one night before the show we were down at the hotel Cicero. The three of us, boozin', havin' a few laughs, and we ran out of ice so I went out to get some. I come back, open the door, and there's Veronica and Charlie, Doing number seventeen, the spread eagle." A beat as the two girls in the black and white suits did the splits. "Well, I was in such a state of shock, I completely blacked out I can't remember a thing. It wasn't until later when I was washing the blood off my hands I even knew they were dead," she said, unrolling red wrappings in her hands as she spoke. Snapping them with a flick of the wrist, she began to dance again. "They had it coming, they had it coming, they had it coming all along!" she bellowed. "I didn't do it, but if I'd done it, how could you tell me that I was wrong?" she yelled, before dropping out of view as the blonde woman in the scandalously short blue dress, pinafore, and tights rose into view.

"I loved Al Lipschitz more than I could possibly say," she lamented, winding herself up and down a nearby pole. "He was a real artistic guy, sensitive, a painter. But he was always trying to find himself. He'd go out every night looking for himself and on the way, he found Ruth, Gladys, Rosemary, and Irving. I guess you can say we broke up because of artistic differences: He saw himself as alive and I saw him dead," as she brought out a red cloth and dragged it across her throat threateningly, before snapping her wrist.

"The dirty bum, bum, bum, bum, bum! The dirty bum, bum, bum, bum, bum!" the women shouted, charging forward, the stage behind them suddenly illuminating the figures of dozens of other women behind bars as more appeared to join the first six. These women were dressed like police, black and white or orange prisoners uniforms, asylum patients in straightjackets, and even some of the vigilantes that inhabited Gotham, though all the costumes were highly revealing and seductive, and soon joined the other women in their dances.

"They had it comin' (they had it comin'), they had it comin' (they had it comin'), they had it comin' all along! 'Cause if they used us ('Cause if they used us) and they abused us (and they abused us), how could they tell us that we were wrong? He had it coming (he had it coming), he had it coming (he had it coming), he only had himself to blame!" they roared, kicking with each clash of the cymbals, before sliding to the floor, twisting and bending every which way. "If you'd have been there (if you'd have been there), if you'd have seen it (if you'd have seen it), I betcha you would have done the same."

"You pop that gum one more time. Single my ass. Ten times. Miert csukott Uncle Sam bortonbe. Number seventeen, the spread eagle. Artistic differences," the women echoed as they slunk back into the shadows.

"Pop!"

"Six."

"Squish."

"Uh-uh."

"Cicero."

"Lipschitz." The cellblock doors rolled back with a clang, and the lights went back on, illuminating the formerly darkened theater.

"Alright. Zat was good ladies," the red headed older woman commented, walking toward the stage with her cane, a Russian accent honeying her words. She then slammed her cane into the ground, startling the girls. "But it can be better, and so it vill. Gilda, don't look so threatening. Chase, less condescending, more captivating. Same for you Veronica. Grace, go for innocent, not awkvard. Jeannie, smiles should be inviting, not insane. And Alice, keep focused, this is not Vonderland. From ze top." They nodded and immediately began reset.

"Madame Andreyv?" came a soft voice and the red headed woman turned to see a young platinum blonde girl looking up at her.

"Yes Lucy?"

"There's some men at the front door who want in," Lucy informed her. Madame Andreyv closed her eyes, sighed, and pinched the bridge of her arms.

"Tell them to come back when we're open. If they refuse, get out a sniper rifle," she instructed, massaging her head. Lucy smiled and nodded.

"Yes Madame," she acknowledged before scurrying off. The red headed older woman finally opened her eyes and took a deep breath. Madame Anastasia Andreyv had been the Madame of Gotham's Underworld for decades and after such a long reign, she had refused to let Quincy Sharp, Hugo Strange, or Arkham City get in the way of her, her business, and especially, her girls.


	2. A Heart Full of Love

**A/N: K, next chapter! Thanks to all of you who read, followed, and favorited, and and HUGE THANKS to scribblescribble****scribble. And to answer the question she had in case anyone else was wondering, I named Gilda and the other girls after the Rogues' love interests: Gilda (Harvey's wife), Grace (Harvey's fiancee from Batman: the Animated Series), Jeannie (the Joker's wife from The Killing Joke), Veronica (a socialite the Penguin had a crush on in Batman: the Animated Series), Alice (obviously, the Mad Hatter), and Chase (the Riddler and Dr. Chase Meridian had some chemistry in Batman Forever and that was the best I could find for him). This is because Madame Anastasia knows what the Rogues like and as such she wants her girls to appeal to them. Those aren't really the girls really names, just their stage names of a sort. Anyways, thanks and please review and above all, enjoy!**

******Oh, and before I forget, I'd suggest listening to "A Heart Full of Love," from Les Miserables while reading this chapter. I'm kind of basing the plot of this off of the musical. Anyway, enough talk. Hope you enjoy!**

A Heart Full of Love

Taking a stroll through the graveyard at around three in the morning was suicide for most people in Arkham City; for Ana Andreyv, it was a typical Sunday morning. Those who dared to try and stop her learned quickly what a knife to the privates felt like, and consequently, learned not to cross her. She eventually stopped in front of two weathered graves and, after observing them for a moment, placed a paper rose on each grave, before turning and striding out of the graveyard, the two names on the graves shinning in the moonlight.

Sonya Andreyv

1972 – 1984

Andrew Araki

1960 – 1986

* * *

Later that morning, Ana Andreyv sat at her desk, filing through the paperwork stacked high on her desk, a cigarette in her hand and a half full glass of scotch nearby. Sighing, she removed her reading glasses and rubbed her head. She glanced at two pictures on her desk, before she stopped her work, dropped the still lit cigarette in her scotch, and picked up the pictures. One was of a young reddish brown haired little girl, about ten years old, with blue eyes and a pale complexion, worryingly skinny, but cheerful all the same. The second was of a handsome young Asian man, smiling cockily at her through the glass. She smiled back at the two, before shaking her head at herself. If she kept this up much longer, she'd start hallucinating. Then, a gentle knock on the old wooden door of her office grounded her in the real world.

"Come in," she called, and in wandered young platinum blonde Lucy, the youngest of Madame Andreyv's girls and possibly the youngest inmate in Arkham City.

"Madame, I have the inventory, set, and costume reports ready for your approval," she informed the older woman, who nodded in turn.

"Good, set them down," she instructed, putting her reading glasses back on. Lucy set them down as told and turned to leave, but turned back at the last moment.

"Also, Gilda and Grace are causing a bit of trouble again." The Madame looked up at the young blonde girl over her glasses.

"Conning?" Lucy nodded, and Ana sighed, rolled her eyes, took off her reading glasses, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I vill deal vith them." Lucy nodded and turned to leave again, before swinging around again, a hopeful and tentative expression on her face.

"Madame, I was thinking–"

"No," the Madame said without looking up.

"But Madame–"

"No Lucy. It's for your protection." Lucy rolled her eyes and looked just about ready to shout at the older woman.  
"Ana, please, I'm not a child anymore!" Madame Andreyv looked up at her youngest girl at last, clearly annoyed at having to discus a subject brought up many a time before.

"If you weren't then you would understand that everything I do, I do for you and the other girls. Now go." Lucy sighed and rolled her eyes, but turned and headed out of the room. Making her way through the halls of the theater, she passed costumes, sets, props, and girls who ranged from scantily clad beauties, to well covered girls with not a facet of beauty in sight, until she finally found a beautiful blonde girl with an absolutely blinding smile, who was in a back room cleaning guns and sharpening knives.

"Jeannie?" Lucy asked and Jeannie's gaze snapped from the guns to the girl before her. The older girl quickly smoothed back her hair and leaned on a crate of grenades.

"Yeah, Luc?" she replied.

"I need a favor." Jeannie grinned and shrugged nonchalantly.

"Sure. Anything."

* * *

"You know, when I said anything, I didn't think you'd mean wading into enemy territory," the older girl remarked, glancing tentatively at the Joker's goon patrolling on the level above them.

"I'm sorry, but you're the Joker's favorite and his thugs are less likely to shoot me if you're here," Lucy pointed out. The two of them were carefully making their way over the rooftops of Akrham City, fully decked out in black suits with knives and guns in their holsters, taking special care not to get noticed by the multiple gunmen who seemed to reside on every other rooftop.

"Fine, but you owe me," Jeannie stated.

"I have a bit of ecstasy in my safe. I'll give you some when we get back," Lucy said, making her way up a set of stairs.

"As tempting as that is, it's not what I want," Jeannie responded, her gaze going from Lucy's back to her backside. Lucy, however, took no notice and continued over the rooftops, before clambering down the fire escapes and tentatively.

"He should be around here," she stated.

"He?" Jeannie asked, but received no reply, as Lucy was observing a goon from behind a corner. Smiling, she whistled, and the young, pale brunet thug in his early twenties looked at her. Hurrying toward her, Lucy burst from her hiding spot and jumped into his arms, Jeannie collapsing against a wall as she watched them.

"What are you doing here?" he questioned, putting her down.

"I was worried. You know what the gang war has been like."

"All the more reason for you to not be outside, do you know what these guys would do if they saw you?"

"I've lived in this part of town my whole life Michael, I know the risks. But I'm willing to take them for you." Michael held her head in his hands, before the two of them kissed deeply, Jeannie banging her head against the wall around the corner. Eventually, the two of them broke apart.

"You know, I could talk to her," she told her lover.

"Lucy," Michael warned her, but was cut off.

"She listens to me, Mike," Lucy persisted. "I could talk to her, maybe get her to make an exception."

"And what if she doesn't? What if she throws you out onto the streets for trying to change her mind."

"She wouldn't do that."

"You never know; things are changing and people are desperate Luc."

"We haven't changed." He smiled at that.

"No. I guess not." They kissed again, Michael, spinning Lucy around as they did. Meanwhile, Jeannie sighed, observing the happy couple from the corner, before muttering to herself, "Funny how no matter how hard ya try to impress a girl, it's never really enough."

* * *

An hour later, the two girls were headed back to the Monarch Theater. "What do you think the chances are that she'll notice we've gone?" Lucy asked. Her communicator sounded and both the girls paled.

"Judging from that: a hundred and seventy percent," Jeannie noted, and Lucy reluctantly answered it.

"Madame Andreyv, what do you–"

"Lucy, I know you and Jeannie are outside," the cross voice of Ana Andreyv interrupted.

"Madame, please, we can–"

"Don't. Besides, since you're already out, you can check and see if Tracy and Candy 'ave any new girls for us." Lucy smiled.

"Yes Madame." She hung up and turned to find the color coming back to Jeannie's face. With that they took off toward the Bowery, going fast enough so that even the few who saw them could never catch them. Eventually, the duo made their way one of the tallest buildings in Bowery to find two young women surveying the streets, two sniper rifles at the ready.

"Tracey. Candy," Jenanie greeted.

"Lucy. Jeannie," Candy responded. "Sorry, but no one new tonight." Lucy nodded, before looking down at the streets below.

"How is it?" she inquired.

"It's quie' tonigh'," Tracey informed them.

"I think they're waiting," Candy responded.

"For what?" Lucy questioned.

"The righ' time ta strike," Tracey said.

* * *

"Chase, how are our figures going?" Madame Andreyv inquired, bursting into the office next to hers.

"Please give me a bit of credit Ana; I'm calculating the rent and amenities for nearly a thousand women," the blonde in a tiny green skirt and jacket with a small purple top underneath pointed out, twirling a pen through her fingers.

"You're doing your job, now don't complain." Chase sighed and shrugged.

"Alright then. We're barely making rent and even if we manage to find a way to pay it, we'll have to start eating the sets or something." Ana immediately snatched up the files and began to look through the figures herself.

"I thought you said ve had enough food in storage to last six months."

"That was five and a half months ago. Plus you have to account for pilfering and such." She sighed, took off her reading glasses, and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Suggestions?" Chase shrugged again.

"Call in favors or ask for more time?"

"They von't like that. And ve have to keep them happy." Chase sighed and got up out of her swivel chair.

"Unless you can think of a way to come up with a million bucks in the next two weeks, we're dead." With that, she vacated the room and left the Madame to figure out a plan.

The Joker, Two-Face, and Penguin all had very different attitudes toward her, her establishment, and the rent they paid them to keep the fighting away from her business.

The Joker didn't care about money, but his men did and the last thing he and Harley needed was unhappy goons. Plus, he hated being snubbed, and was liable to react the most violently to such an insult as missing rent.

Two-Face was always indecisive. Once he got the month's rent, he'd flip his coin to see whether next week's would be double or half the rent she paid the others.

As for the Penguin… well, he was the most difficult. He and Ana had had a complicated relationship over the years. They both supplied the Underworld with objects and services that the criminals required, and as such, they often clashed when it came to business, especially after Candy and Tracey had taken refuge in her club.

Ana looked over the papers again: a million in two weeks. She sighed. There was only one way to do it; she'd have to dance again.


End file.
